


She's full of quiet confidence.

by agirlinherhead



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fem, genderbent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlinherhead/pseuds/agirlinherhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to a challange over on FF.Net which has since been removed(!) requesting Fem!Miles. However I cant seem to get over the fact that she would be so much older than Chandler so I've reduced her age. </p>
<p>Almost reads like a Chandler/OFC. (usually I ship Chandler/Kent so it feels a bit weird)</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's full of quiet confidence.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware, I am NOT a writer. I'm an artist, I paint, so the grammar will be terrible, you'll find I love a good long run on sentence, and I throw full stops in where ever I please. I call it artistic licence....

She's full of quiet confidence.

 

He never expected to like Rai Miles. They were similar in age but she'd worked her way up. She'd made her career on the street, in uniform, hard graft and harder criminals. She's beaten 'the boys' and fought the glass ceiling, there's not many woman in her position, not in the east end, and none that have this amount of respect.   
  
They didn't even get along. He'd swanned in and taken over, telling her men what to do, giving orders like he knew better than she did, like he'd picked up more in the class rooms than she'd picked up on the job. Her men just snickered at him and she'd rolled her eyes and humoured him, much like a parent would a toddler.  
  
They're totally different really, she's full of quiet confidence and she knows her stuff, she's not afraid of getting her hands dirty, of speaking her mind, of confrontation and failure, he doubts very much she's afraid of anything. She's full of quiet confidence and he, well, _he's not_.  
  
.  
  
He's not even sure when it happened, maybe it was around the time her blood was pumping out between his fingers from the stab wound inflicted by David Cohen, when all he wanted to do was stop the blood, _so much blood_.  
  
He's really not sure when it happened at all, but he's aware that their relationship was once all raised voices regarding what 'real policemen' look like and patronising looks that held no respect. Now she's defending him against the banter from the uniforms, she's giving him pep talks about not having to be perfect, she's giving him strength and talking him off of shower floors when all he wants to do is give up and give in. She's cleaning his hands when he's touched severed body parts, _a bloody foot no less_ , and she's doing it all away from prying eyes, and she's not mentioning it to anyone.   
  
  
He's changed too, he's sure of it.   
  
  
Because suddenly she doesn't irritate him.   
  
Suddenly the way she throws her jacket anywhere she pleases doesn't bother him as much as it used to, Neither does the messily folded newspaper she ALWAYS leaves on her chair in his office. _Her chair_.  
  
.  
  
He's all logic, clean lines and well thought out plans.  
  
He wears suits cut from the best cloth and tailored to perfection. He looks professional, proud, _in control_ , as if he's the man for the job.  
  
She wears keys around her neck for an address in baker street, says she's keeping them for a friend who she swears is coming back.  
  
When she twists them between her fingers with that sad look in her eyes he tells himself it's that the chain doesn't hang perpendicular to her collar that bothers him and it has nothing to do with jealousy at all.  
  
And when he's asked to choose, between his DS and DI Norry, he's glad Miles has the better idea, because even if she hadn't he has a feeling he would have sided with her anyway, _and wouldn't he have looked a fool_.  
  
.  
  
She drinks whisky like a sailor, swears like one too. She'll grab a suspect by the collar just to read the look in his eye. She can give as good as she gets, no one told her she's in a mans world. He thinks she's scary as hell.  
  
Then she's not.  
  
Then she's understanding, and she cares. She lets her sister Judy and her kids move in with her even though they've not spoken in years, because family's family, and no one should have to live with a prick.  
  
He's seen the way she is with Kent, they go way back, she'd given the kid a chance on the team when everyone else had said he was too young, too soft. He's heard about the time she'd rounded on Fitz for calling the kid a 'puff', and he's seen first hand when she's taken him aside and raised his chin, whispering words of affirmation and empowerment, and Kent's always held his head that little bit higher after that.   
  
She's also confessed that there's more than a small part of her happy that the wannabe Krays are dead, because she'd wanted to do the job herself after what they did to her boy. He made a silent promise never to mention that confession.  
  
  
There are lots of things they don't mention.  
  
  
After the bad cases, and once Judy & the kids are in bed they spend hours in the dark just sitting by the pond. They don't need to speak, and they stopped pretending to feed the fish months ago, but neither one of them will mention that.  
  
She's been asked out on dates before, she's a good looking woman, but every time she turns them down claiming she's married to her job. It's on those nights that they both stay late, knocking back single malt and not really doing paper work. And if, when they're both sitting at his desk, they're so close their thighs touch and if somehow they're fingers find themselves laced between one anothers, then neither one of them will mention that either.

 

 


End file.
